Gizel/Euram. NC-17. ~3400 words. Noncon.
For a moment, Gizel had the rare pleasure of Euram at a complete loss for words.

–

“And what would you have me believe has prompted this change of heart?” Gizel said, his fingers idly tapping the chair’s arm.

Euram stood in front of the wide desk, twisting the fine lace spilling from his sleeves in his hands. The candlelight flickered in the warm night breeze, the scent of sweet creeper vines carried in on the air. Gizel enjoyed the atmosphere Ferid had created in the Commander’s office, and out of respect for the man, changed nothing.

“Regretfully,” Euram began, a slight tremor to his voice betraying his nervousness even after he stilled his fingers, “my father was taken in by the Prince’s schemes. I was, as well,” he added, a calculated afterthought. “I wish to make right our wrongs.”

“I see.”

Silence fell heavily between them. Gizel bided his time, confident in the knowledge that despite whatever changes may overtake Falena, Euram Barrows remained ever the same.

“Gizel.” Euram stepped forward with a hand outstretched entreatingly. “My dear Gizel,” he repeated in the hopes of a false familiarity aiding his cause. “You have nothing but my most sincere apologies on behalf of my family and I. Please, allow me-”

“Gizel, please,” Euram pleaded, the distress in his voice almost enough to convince Gizel the apology was heartfelt, not a carefully planned political move. “My sister only seeks to spite us all.”

Gizel rose, circling the desk to stand before Euram and set his hands to those slim, drooping shoulders. His lips twisted into something of a smile as the boy tried and failed to hide a cringe.

“You’re a fool,” Gizel said, the flash of heat in Euram’s eyes no match for the stain of red on his cheeks. “The Knights requested permission to kill you on sight.”

Euram’s cheeks instantly paled, his wide mouth falling open in shock. “I am a future lord,” he sputtered, regaining a measure of his colour along with his indignation. “Surely you-”

“What, Euram? Leapt to the defence of a traitor to my wife?” Gizel allowed himself a tight smile. “The Queen cares nothing for you. It is my favour your must court.”

For a moment, Gizel had the rare pleasure of Euram at a complete loss for words. His delicately painted lips remained parted, the teasing hint of small, even teeth and the soft pink of his tongue inviting thoughts well suited to such a night.

“What will you offer me?” Gizel asked. “Your questionable loyalty?” Rather than wait for Euram to muster the courage and a suitable lie, Gizel lifted a hand to his face, gloved thumb touching his soft lips and coming away stained red. “Or something more fitting, considering how cheaply you’ve sold your pitiful integrity?”

“I assure you, I have no idea what you imply,” Euram said in a bubbling rush, the flush of his face creeping steadily down his slender throat. When Gizel said nothing, Euram lowered his eyes. “My father acted against the throne in allying with Armes. I questioned but dared not disobey,” he said, false bravado gleaming in his eyes as he raised them again. “You must understand.”

“You’re little more than a traitor,” Gizel continued, unmoved. He cared little for the fledgling lord’s plight beyond what he stood to gain. “You will be stripped of your rank and sold as a gladiator.” Gizel examined the mark left on his glove. He rubbed his fingers together, the rouge much like a bloodstain on the fine cotton. “I wish you the best of luck in holding onto your worthless life.”

Gizel met Euram’s horrified scream with cool indifference. The boy fell to his knees, his hand clutching at Gizel’s robe as tears spilled from bright, shocked eyes. Predictable, and as equally entertaining as it was trying. “Y-you can’t, you can’t,” he babbled, the words broken by his shuddering sobs. “Gizel, you simply can’t.”

“I believe I just have.”

“Permit me the chance to redeem myself!” Gizel arched a brow at the outburst and Euram lowered his gaze, adopted a tone more suited to a supplicant to the Palace. “I beg of you,” – his voice caught – “my Lord.”

“What would you suggest I do with you?” Gizel clasped his hands behind his back. “I have a loyal man, competent Knights, a blossoming wife. Shall I take you as a catamite, and use your body to slake my lust until my sweet Lym is woman enough to spread her legs for me?”

Gizel watched, fascinated, as Euram inexplicably fought the urge to outright refuse such an insulting offer, the boy’s arms trembling as he bowed his head. “And what if I were to treat you as the rest of the chattel? I will strip you of your finery, put my brand upon your flesh and a collar round your neck, and the only bed you will have to call your own will be the stones before my hearth.”

Euram shuddered, a choked sob muffled by his hand. “I’m not… if you make me a gladiator, I’ll be killed. I don’t- I can’t-” The boy’s face twisted, so stricken Gizel thought him about to be ill on the fine carpets.

Gizel sighed, cutting Euram’s stumbling short once more. His voice soft, his fingers gentle, he lifted Euram’s tear-streaked face. “You do not wish to die.”

Euram answered with an unsteady nod.

“Strip, then,” he said, equally as soft. “Show me what you have to offer.”

The boy’s wide mouth, perfectly suited to Gizel’s wants, went slack.

“You continually make the mistake of thinking you have a choice,” Gizel said, his thumb gentle against Euram’s lips. He pictured them stained a deeper red, swollen tight and full. Anticipation curled tight in his gut much like the triumph before a kill. “You beg forgiveness and balk at earning it with your blood. You should be grateful for the chance to earn it upon your back.”

Like a puppet without its strings, Euram clambered to his feet. “You can’t be serious,” he dared, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. His hands shook as he backed away, his darting eyes seeking an escape that didn’t exist.

“If you are worth having, then I will have you.” Gizel closed the steadily widening distance between them, seizing a handful of the boy’s clothes at the throat. “I will see you stripped bare before me,” he said, relentless in the face of Euram’s horror, “and if the sight of you stretched wide and wet pleases me, if fucking you is worth your miserable existence, then I will keep you for that very purpose.”

A choked sound gurgled low in Euram’s throat, far sweeter than the boy’s honeyed words. He struggled pathetically against Gizel’s hold, clawing at skin protected by thick cotton and too stupid to even attempt scratching at Gizel’s face.

“I suppose if you’re to be my whore, you’ll have little need for this finery.” For Euram’s benefit, he tore at the expensive cloth, ripping seams and fastenings to leave the boy’s chest naked between the tatters.

Euram grasped at his ruined clothing, trying fruitlessly to gather it to cover himself. His useless noises of protest made Gizel’s cock swell thicker, sent pleasure singing through his veins.

“Finish,” Gizel said, grabbing the boy’s face when Euram dared to hesitate. He squeezed hard enough to feel the hard line of teeth, eliciting a whimper and guaranteeing the mottle of bruises to form on the boy’s pale, pale skin by morning. “Your first lesson, then: do not disobey me. Strip.”

Euram squeezed his eyes shut and murmured his submission. Gizel held on a moment longer, not satisfied until Euram clutched at his wrist and moaned. “Please, Gizel, yes. You’re hurting me.”

Gizel stepped back, providing Euram with enough space to make the show worthwhile. The boy gingerly touched his cheek and sniffled, taking as much time as humanly possible to tug his cravat free and hold it balled tight in his small fist.

He toed off his heeled shoes one at a time, removed his silken stockings in a similar fashion. Gizel’s patience thinned. Yet he waited, curious as to how far Euram believed he could push this.

The boy tugged at his shirt, pulling it forward to hide himself as he fumbled at the lacings of his breeches. Like a shy child, he bent forward as he pushed them down, his face flushed though his smallclothes left his prick covered.

Euram lifted his head, his expression as miserable as his body language had suggested. Softly, he said, “Isn’t using my-” his voice vanished as if his throat had closed over. “Must you humiliate me?”

“Sweet Euram,” Gizel murmured. Gently, maliciously, he pushed the boy’s shirt from his shoulders, allowing it to fall carelessly to the floor like the trash it was. “Your shame is far more appealing than this soft body.”

A sound burbled in Euram’s throat, a noise so purely wretched Gizel could barely stand the surge of pleasure it gave him. “You’d best hope you never become complacent,” he said. “There are far worse abuses I could lay upon your naked flesh than my gaze alone.”

Angrily, as if he’d finally found a core of resistance, Euram jerked his smallclothes free. Not more than half a heartbeat passed before it evaporated and he moved to cover his nakedness with his hands, the flush of red creeping steadily down his slender chest.

“Euram,” Gizel said, and with a hopeless groan, the boy revealed himself. And still he fidgeted, hands fluttering useless at his sides, reaching for the lace that no longer spilled over his wrists.

Pleased, Gizel stepped closer, circling Euram to better see his prize. “Kneel,” he said, murmuring a slight praise as the boy dropped to the floor, hands in his lap once again.

Still, Euram refused, shrieking his pain as Gizel pinched the inside of his thigh and twisted. “You will learn to obey me,” Gizel threatened, rudely shoving the boy’s knees apart himself. “Or you will die.”

“Gizel, please,” Euram pleaded, his fingers clawing white-knuckled at the carpet as Gizel lifted his hips. “Stop this. It’s madness, Gizel, please, stop.” His voice continued to rise as Gizel spread the soft cheeks of his ass wide, dragging a gloved fingertip down the cleft, until he shrilled, “No, no, stop!”

“Do you honestly expect mercy?” Gizel asked. The boy’s tiny hole was flushed a fresh, delicious pink, a bare dusting of short, thin blond hairs to mar it. That would be easily remedied, and quite possibly an enjoyable task. Gizel pushed at Euram’s hole, expecting the tight resistance and glorying in the way Euram quivered beneath him, the boy’s eyes clenched tight with tears trembling at his girlishly delicate lashes.

“Please,” Euram whimpered. “Don’t.”

Gizel had little intention to taste the sweetness of Euram’s ass tonight. It would do well to wait for that, to tease himself and torture the boy with the anticipation. Imagining how Euram would struggle, and beg, how his back would arch and tremble, however, did little to ease the temptation.

“Very well,” Gizel said, watching disdainfully as Euram sagged with relief. “Be silent,” he added, the boy’s flood of hiccupping thanks grating on his nerves. Stepping smartly in front of Euram’s prone body, he gripped the boy’s chin, jerked that shock-bright gaze up to his own. “If you’re so very loathe to have your ass full of cock and come, then your mouth will do.”

Euram exploded into motion, screeching his denial as he tried to gain his feet and stumbled, landing in an ungainly sprawl of coltish limbs. Outwardly calm, though his blood boiled, Gizel asked, “To the cages, then? That choice does remain.”

“A whore?” Gizel said. “No, as I hardly plan on paying you for your services.” Again, he closed the distance between them, pulling Euram forward onto hands and knees as if the boy were a ragdoll. “You will be kept for no other reason than for me to use you, to take my pleasure in your sweet warmth.”

His thumb to Euram’s soft lips, Gizel pulled the boy’s mouth open to taste the wet heat inside. Sugar met his tongue, predictable given Euram’s indulgences. Perhaps a way to reward, then, to keep Euram from finding whatever shred of real resistance he may possess.

Euram remained passive. His breath hissed through his nose as Gizel explored his mouth. Noise bubbled in his throat, hardly even a proper protest. Disappointed in the boy’s sudden and complete compliance, Gizel bit at the fullness of his lip.

“Open your mouth,” Gizel said, rising and dragging the boy up to his knees by the elbow. Curving a hand over the back of Euram’s skull, Gizel tugged open his own breeches to present the boy with the dark, wet head of his cock. “Keep your tongue soft and suck me well.”

“And I care nothing for what you can or cannot do.” All patience gone, Gizel allowed himself the indulgence of giving the boy a teeth-rattling shake. “Roll out your tongue, boy, or I’ll forego the pleasure of this wet hole to take the other dry.”

With a pitiful whimper of sound, Euram did as he was bid. Gizel took the opportunity to admire the soft pink of the boy’s tongue beside the flushed red of his lips. The moment stretched long, saliva gathering and threatening to drip from Euram’s tongue.

“Don’t swallow,” Gizel said, the ache in his cock growing worse as Euram struggled to obey. Wrapping a hand firmly around the base, Gizel slicked the head of his cock on the boy’s tongue before pushing inside, deliberately too deeply, too quickly.

Euram jerked back, gagging. Precome and spit smeared his cheek as he twisted against Gizel’s hold.

“You’re hardly worth the effort.” Wrenching the boy’s head back, Gizel offered up his cock once more. “Again.”

Eyes clenched tight, Euram opened his mouth and leaned forward. He startled when Gizel’s cock touched his lips, turning reluctantly to follow the slow glide of the head across his mouth.

Gizel’s chest went tight. The boy made a pathetic attempt to suck, so very obvious in his distaste for the task. Cruelly, Gizel pushed at the back of Euram’s throat, triggering another fit of choking. Before Euram could jerk away a second time, Gizel wedged three gloved fingers into the boy’s mouth, pinning his tongue.

“Shall I simply fuck you, then? Since you are incapable of pleasing me?” Swiftly, Gizel replaced fingers with cock, stretching the boy’s lips tight far too close to the base for Euram’s comfort. “Perhaps that is all you are, nothing more than two holes to fill.”

Euram groaned, far beyond words. He let himself go pliant in defeat. Gizel smiled. The boy would wish it were so easy.

“Come now, look at me,” Gizel prompted, tilting Euram’s chin up. He began easily, slow, shallow thrusts that the boy could take with little effort.

Euram’s cheeks were mottled with colour, sharp red contrasting appealingly with the beginnings of bruising. Gizel would have far preferred the dark ring round the boy’s neck, but allowed time for such things later.

The boy was clumsy, his tongue wiggling away from the push of Gizel’s cock, the muffled noises of his discomfort filling the close air. Gizel had scarcely imagined such ineptness would cause the tight curl of lust deep in his gut. He thrust harder, moaning appreciatively as the head again bumped the back of the boy’s throat. Euram’s struggles renewed, half-hearted and pitiful.

Euram responded with a harsh breath, slumping forward. Even naked on his knees, his mouth filled, his eyes were full of denial, a spark of hate Gizel had thought the boy incapable of possessing. He looked forward to managing Euram’s emotions, to beating the boy down enough that any rebellion occurred only for Gizel’s own pleasure.

Tightening his grip in Euram’s soft hair, Gizel wrenched the boy forward, fucking Euram’s slack mouth in a merciless search for his own release. Euram began to choke, thrashing against Gizel’s hold as he fought for breath.

“Yes, exactly like that,” Gizel hissed, wedging a thumb between Euram’s teeth again to keep the boy from biting. He thrust deeper, held the position for a handful of seconds to feel Euram’s throat convulse desperately around his cock. He shuddered with the pleasure of it, from the animal panic that widened Euram’s eyes.

“Swallow,” he ordered, hardly expecting Euram to try, much less succeed. Dully, he felt Euram claw at him through his clothing and imagined it a plea for mercy. Generously, he gave it, pulling back to allow the boy space to breathe, and for his come to spill warm and bitter over Euram’s tongue.

Immediately, Euram sputtered, spit. Saliva and come spilled from the corners of his lips, glistened wetly on his chin. Before Euram could hope to recover, Gizel withdrew and rubbed his cock clean on the boy’s flushed cheek.

Hauling Euram’s head back at a painfully sharp angle, Gizel gave him a considering look. “Barely worth my time,” he said, shoving Euram away to sprawl, used and filthy, on the floor. Slicking the come from his cock, Gizel flicked it to the stones and righted his clothes. “Perhaps seeing your asshole split wide on my cock will be more worthwhile.”

“Gizel,” Euram rasped, clutching at his throat. He dared not rise, merely curled in on himself to hide his nakedness, his shame concealed behind the fall of his hair. The ribbon that had held it back lay some few feet away. “Please, stop this, I-”

“It’s far too late for that, Euram.” Savouring the satisfaction that welled up inside him, Gizel let out a slow breath. Already he felt his cock stirring again from the sight Euram made. “But I will promise your precious virginity will remain yours for now, should you please me in one last task.”

The hope that sprang in Euram’s eyes was a pleasure to watch, how jaded it was with fear after such a little thing. “What?” Euram asked, his voice a sad croak of sound. That he didn’t deny his lack of sexual experience hardly went unnoticed.

Seizing a fistful of tangled blond hair, Gizel turned Euram to face the come spattered on the cold stone. “After you’ve eaten the come left smeared upon your face, lick that clean as well.”

Sighing, Gizel crouched before him, swiping a fingertip through the mess on Euram’s face and bringing it to sore, swollen lips. “You will do as I tell you,” Gizel said, grabbing Euram by the throat and thrusting his finger deep into the boy’s mouth. “And you’ll never be without the taste of my come on your tongue, dear Euram. Even should I fuck you, and force you to expel it from your very body, you will eat it. And you will thank me each and every time that you’re still alive to do so.”

His eyes closed once more, broken and beautiful for it, Euram groaned his humiliation to the sunless sky.